


the best you've ever had

by chromyrose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bad Dirty Talk, Canon Compliant, Canon Sexuality, Engagement, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Intimacy, Light BDSM, M/M, Pillow Talk, Post episode 10, Sex Is Fun, Spoilers, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose
Summary: Yuuri can't stop thinking about the photos on Viktor's phone. He's embarrassed, he's ashamed, but more than that, he's in disbelief that he could be so sexy. He wants to try it again. Sober, this time.
Viktor can't say no to an offer like that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Those who read my last fic will know that I had a lot of anxiety as a result of episode 10 and some of the implications - with time, writing, and lots of evaluation, I've mostly settled those bad feelings, though I have very high hopes for what episode 11 needs to deliver. 
> 
> After dealing with my issues about Yuuri's anxiety and how he might react badly, I wanted to explore the other side of the coin: what if Yuuri sees these photos and he's just honestly surprised with himself for being able to do that. Like, being so open, so sensual, so raw, and so good at it?? And then of course, I think he would want to see how much of that he can do without alcohol. 
> 
> Also, I'm kind of sick of the jokes in the fandom that Viktor wants Yuuri the way he was acting when he was drunk specifically, so I wanted to show that while Viktor _loves_ when Yuuri is sexual and open and honest with himself, he wants that to come from him, and not from alcohol. (This is really really important to me, more than anything else. Please, Kubo-sensei and staff, address this!!)
> 
> This is unbetaed, so let me know if you spy any typos. Title is from Panic! at the Disco's song _Death of a Bachelor_ , specifically the full line: "And when you think of me/Am I the best you've ever had?"

They'd had plane tickets to return to Japan after the Grand Prix final, were all packed and ready to go to the airport when had Yuuri stopped by his suitcase and pursed his lips. 

“Viktor... can we go someplace else?”

Viktor remembers tilting his head quizzically, brushing the hair out of his eyes so he could look at Yuuri's expression. “You don't want to go home?” 

Yuuri's blush was so fervent in that moment, that even before he spoke Viktor's heart had felt jumpstarted. 

“You are my home,” he'd murmured. “I want to go someplace alone with you.” 

They'd ended up on a train to Paris, in a cab to the quietest, most humble hostel the driver knew of, and then in a room so intimate that they can't even see the Parisian skyline from their window. 

 

The next night, when Viktor opens the door of the ensuite, the steam curling around his legs dissipates in the chill of their little room. In the dim light that the lamp sheds on the space, his fiancé is curled up in bed, scrolling through something intently on his phone. Viktor relishes in the cool air on his drying skin; the sensation reminds him of getting out of the hot springs, and it's why he can only take scalding showers anymore. With one towel around his waist and another working through his hair, he gazes at Yuuri reclined on the bed. 

He's leaning against the headboard, back supported by all of the pillows. He's just in sweatpants and a v-necked thermal shirt, but the light washing over his skin makes him look oh-so sensual. The hand that he's not using to hold the phone has his shirt rucked up ever-so slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of his skin, and his fingertips are stroking that soft flesh of his belly. His knees are bent open in a diamond, one up and one out. 

Viktor thinks of every Venus he's ever seen in every museum he's ever been to, but none of those paintings hold a candle to the sight his eyes can't stop drinking in.

Yuuri's hand shifts around the phone, and Viktor's eyes are drawn in by the movement – that's when he notices the case is pink and gold, not blue and poodles. 

“Are you using my phone?” He asks as he strides across the room, dropping the towel in his hands but keeping the one around his waist. He gets to see a flash of _something_ before Yuuri, who evidently hadn't heard the bathroom door open, squeaks and presses the phone to his chest.

“No! I mean, yes,” he says quickly, a beautiful pink flush coloring the high arc of his cheekbone where his glasses rest on his face. “I'm sorry, Viktor.” 

Viktor waves his worries away as he sits down beside him. “I gave you the passcode for a reason, Yuuri. I don't have anything to hide from you.” 

Yuuri licks his lips, and that's when Viktor senses it, the anxiety. Even though Yuuri's body is lain out in a relaxed pose, his muscles are tense. Viktor thinks that blush was probably there even before he noticed it. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Yuuri gazes at him, eyes full of unspoken words, and Viktor stays quiet; he knows that sometimes, Yuuri just needs the time to put the words in the right arrangement. It's been a long time since he's had any reason to doubt Yuuri would be honest and open with him, so he works on his patience. 

“I'm... I'm looking at the pictures from last year's banquet,” Yuuri admits finally, holding the phone out to where they both can see it. The photo on screen is one of the two of them, shoulders brushing as they dance. Yuuri's smile is radiant and it makes Viktor's heart warm. 

Those photos have always made Viktor's stomach warm, even before he knew anything about Yuuri other than his name and his beautiful body – it's impossible not to be happy looking at an attractive boy expressing a confident sensuality. The photos still have that effect even though Viktor knows that the Yuuri he has fallen in love with shares little of that recklessness, that wild ardor. He hasn't kept these photos because this is the Yuuri he prefers; he doesn't even think that there are two separate Yuuris, just one man who struggles with the world around him more honestly and openly than others are willing to admit they also do. 

He looks up at the present Yuuri, the flesh-and-blood boy he loves, and the smile isn't there. Viktor had no idea that Yuuri didn't remember that night, and the revelation was embarrassing for them both. But there's no way that the embarrassment Viktor felt, thinking back on how openly fliratious he was when he first arrived in Hasetsu, can compare to what Yuuri must feel as his mind tries to recreate a memory it had never made to begin with. 

He can understand how Yuuri might see these photos as evidence of something _else_ , something to cause him doubt, and so he breaths softly and keeps his tone gentle, but not pitying. 

“Yuuri, if you would like for me to delete these photos, I will. I am not attached to them nearly as much as I am attached to you. And I know Christophe and Yuri will do the same if we ask them too–“ 

“No,” Yuuri interrupts, his voice low but firm. He's certain. He doesn't want Viktor to question his decision. So Viktor trusts him, and smiles. Yuuri smiles back, although his mouth quakes and it's not very reassuring, and then he looks back down and resumes scrolling.

“Hearing about this, I couldn't believe it happened. I know Celestino made me go to the party, hoping it would cheer me up,” he continues, his voice still low but not firm at all. He pauses here to laugh scornfully. “I was a mess. I lost the Grand Prix, I lost Vicchan... I didn't know what I'd had left. I can remember the first few glasses, how they made me feel less lost, and I guess I needed more of that feeling then more than ever.” 

Yuuri reaches up to wipe his cheek, and for a moment Viktor's heart sinks because he thinks that's Yuuri's crying; but no, he's just sheepishly hiding his mouth. “The next thing I knew Celestino was waking me up and pushing medicine into my mouth for the hangover. He was pretty hung over too, and we had a flight. It was pretty bad...” 

Yuuri laughs again, and this time it's less bitter. Viktor's chest starts to unwind, and he laughs along, remembering the mornings he and Yakov have had their own mutual hangovers; Yakov always had a tendency to shout, as if he couldn't hear himself over his headache otherwise. 

“I never thought that the black part in between had all of this... and it's really embarrassing,” Yuuri whines. “Actually, humiliating is a better word. When I saw the pictures, I was ready to run out of the restaurant. I didn't want to think any of you had seen me like that. Especially not you...” 

“Yuuri...” 

“Viktor,” Yuuri murmurs, looking up at him from behind his thick, gorgeous black lashes, the frames of his glasses. “All my life I dreamt of making my first impression on you on the ice, the way you impressed me. Losing the Grand Prix then was bad enough, but leaving Sochi I told myself that at least I was still anonymous to you. I guess that wasn't the case, though.”

“It was a party, Yuuri. People get drunk. People lose their inhibitions. It was the best party I'd ever been to, though. It still is. Usually post-competition events are so dry, but this time there was a very cute boy dancing without a care in the world. I loved it.” 

Yuuri presses his face to Viktor's side, and Viktor wraps his arm around his shoulders, holding him there. When Yuuri speaks, his voice is muffled by their proximity, but his words are warm on Viktor's skin. 

“I-I realized you probably felt that way. I mean, you kept all these pictures, but you never... made fun of me, or used them against me, or even used them to motivate me to be Eros, or anything like that.” 

“I would never,” Viktor insists, and Yuuri nods. His hair feels like a feather brushing over him, tickling. “I kept them because they reminded me of a good night. The fact that I got to meet you again, that your video reminded me of the idea you gave me then, that was the luckiest coincidence to ever happen.” 

“It was fate,” Yuuri argues. “All my life, Viktor, you've been my destiny.”

Before Viktor can answer, Yuuri kisses the skin in the subtle dip between two of his ribs, where Viktor knows he has a freckle that Yuuri is fond of, and then he pulls away. 

“There's something else...” 

“Go ahead. Tell me.” 

Yuuri licks his lips. “I never knew I could do all that,” he confesses, voice breathless. His expression is so open, fear and excitement playing across his face like shadow and light. “The... the dancing. The _pole dancing_ , fuck, Viktor, no wonder you were so certain I could do the Eros routine.” 

Viktor laughs. Yuuri's face is red, and glowing, and his voice is incredulous and happy and abashed all at once. Not that he can read Yuuri's mind, but he's pretty sure this is a positive reaction. He laughs, and Yuuri smacks his arm, but he's also laughing. 

“I might have been given a hint,” Viktor agrees. “God. You asked me to be your coach that night, but if you'd had asked me to have sex instead, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” 

“I'm glad I didn't,” Yuuri confesses. “I'm glad we're here, now. Like this.” 

He fingers Viktor's ring, the only thing he has on other than the towel. Viktor leans to kiss his forehead and hums. 

“I'm glad, too, on both counts.” 

There's a moment of stillness, and then Yuuri says, “But really, pole dancing? Me? I can't even... I struggle with push ups, sometimes. And my core isn't exactly worth bragging about...” 

Viktor palms the aforementioned paunch, which is really only even paunchy because Yuuri is sitting and slouched. There's no fat there, just skin on skin on muscle.

“Hush,” Viktor coos. “You're an athlete. And you have immense lower body strength, especially for a man,” he emphasizes this by squeezing a chiseled thigh. He also purrs, just to hear Yuuri squeak. “You do 100 sit-ups on our lightest practice days. Your body is perfect.” 

“I was also immensely drunk, though!” 

Viktor tries and fails to suppress a smile at the next memory that comes to mind. “You were. But thankfully Christophe has quick reflexes, so whenever you teetered, he caught you.” 

“Oh god,” Yuuri moans. “I should thank him for that but I really don't want to bring it up.” 

“On his behalf, no thanks necessary.” 

Yuuri grins shyly. He looks down at the phone on his leg, and turns the screen back on. Viktor watches Yuuri's eyes as Yuuri takes the image of himself in, and sees the gears in his mind working. There's still something else Yuuri hasn't said, he realizes. All of this was the build-up to something more. 

Being patient with his fiancé can be such a trial, sometimes.

“You really like the Yuuri you see in these pictures,” he comments. “Too bad I can't be this sexy all the time, huh?” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor says gravely. “If you were that sexy all the time, my heart would be overworked, and I would die. I don't need you to be anything but yourself. Be sexy when you feel sexy. Cry when you need to cry. Laugh from your belly when you're happy. That's all I want.” 

Yuuri's pink in the face and he kisses Viktor gently, fleetingly, and then pulls away, looking at Viktor with his eyes half-lidded.

“...I want to try this again. Sober.” Yuuri finally says. He meets Viktor's gaze head on, and smirks. “For your eyes only.” 

Viktor's heart thumps powerfully against his ribcage, and all the blood rushes in the same direction. He fights to keep a level voice as he responds. “Oh? I suppose I could have a pole installed wherever we decide to make our home.” 

Yuuri shakes his head. “That's a lot of trouble. And it's way too long to wait.” He licks his lips again. “There are... other things.”

“Other things,” Viktor echoes, and this time he cannot mask how dumbstruck he is. His voice is a raspy breath, like he's craving water. 

“Things I can do _right now_.” Yuuri puts his hand on Viktor's cheek. “Promise not to tease me, even if I suck–“

“–I would _never_ tease you for sucking, Yuuri–“

Yuuri covers his mouth, but not fast enough to hide the smile Viktor's joke elicits. “–even if I'm terrible,” he amends. “Promise me.” 

Yuuri's eyes are demanding. But Viktor doesn't even need to think about the request. 

“I promise. Yuuri, whatever you do... whatever you do, I'm sure I'll be gone for you.” 

' _I already am_ ', he thinks. He'd say it out loud if he didn't think it would make Yuuri combust. Yuuri, who has his bottom lip drawn in under his teeth, who arms are shaking, whose eyes are wide and imploring. 

“You don't mind that I haven't showered yet...?” 

“Don't be difficult!” Viktor chides him. “God, Yuuri, I'm already half hard until this towel, you cannot leave me like this.” 

Yuuri looks down for confirmation, and what he sees causes a shift in his body language. Viktor has seen this change hundreds of times, the way Yuuri's shoulders roll back and his neck enlongates, his body blooming as he embraces his sexuality, and even though it's exciting every time, it's absolutely best when they're in bed, and not at the rink. 

Yuuri gets up from the bed and walks around the width of it, crossing over to the side Viktor is leaning on; Viktor's body moves in response, turning so he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor. Now the lamp is behind them both and Yuuri is bathed in its glow. 

He takes a pose similar to the one he starts his _Eros_ routine in, but he has each hand on the opposite side of his neck. Slowly his fingers skim down the long, long pale column of this throat, his Adam's apple bobbing when he knows Viktor is looking right at it. His right hand crosses the length of his torso at his collarbones, where they disappear under the edge of his shirt; his left hand crosses over where Viktor knows his nipples to be, and sure enough that touch brings them each to a point, making them push out against the olive green thermal. A whine escapes Viktor's throat as he thinks about how he'd love nothing more than having his mouth on those eager spots. 

Yuuri gives a deep, throaty chuckle in response to the noise Viktor makes, and waits til Viktor looks him in the eyes again before he licks his lip, slow and sensual. It's one of his nervous habits, too, but in this moment there are no nerves, just hormones and confidence. 

His palms cup either side of his ribs, and Yuuri traces the contour of his torso with a firm grip, highlighting the places where his waist dips in and his hips rise out. It's a distinctly feminine move, and even though Yuuri does not have the waist to hip ratio a woman might, the allure of his touch makes Viktor salivate. 

Yuuri lets his left hand fall to his side, and his right hand, with the ring sparkling, traces the hem of his shirt. One of his fingers hooks onto the fabric, pulls it up to reveal that same flash of skin Viktor saw when Yuuri was lounging in bed. In this context, it makes Viktor pant. 

“Y-Yuuri,” he can't help but whine, overwhelmed by the display and his own lust. Yuuri's smirk is dangerous as he drops the shirt again, and takes a step towards the bed. 

“How about a rule, Viktor?” He drawls, voice at the lowest pitch Viktor's ever heard it. “You can look all you want,” he continues, dragging out the vowel in “all” in a way that shouldn't be legal. His pupils are blown wide, framed by his beautiful eyes, but it only makes the brown in them that much richer. He's practically nose to nose with Viktor now, and Viktor is trying so, so hard not to go cross-eyed– 

“But no touching.” 

Viktor swears his heart stops, until his pulse is the loudest noise in his ears. Yuuri had whispered that, breathed the command over Viktor's lips, and the heat from his breath went right to Victor's cock. He's fully hard now but he knows Yuuri can get him harder, get him to finish with just his voice if he wants.

“Sir,” Viktor agrees, the syllable breaking on his tongue. He swallows hard and places his hands behind himself. “I won't take my eyes off of you.” 

His promise spurs Yuuri back into action, bouncing light on his feet two steps back so Viktor can see him again. This time his hands find the back of his shirt, and he tugs it up from the neckline, up to the bottom of his ribcage. He hesitates there, and it would be funny to see his lover with his head stuck in his shirt if Viktor's eyes weren't locked onto the expanse of his stomach, his core. There are stretch marks there, Viktor knows this more than he can see it in lighting this dim, but placing them where he knows they are adds to the beauty of Yuuri's body; those are some of the smudges and scars that life has marked Yuuri with, and Viktor loves all of them. 

The shirt comes off his head, leaving Yuuri's hair fluffed and his glasses askew. He unwinds the fabric from his arms, making them strain more than necessary to show off the sinew of biceps and triceps that Viktor wishes he could run his tongue across. 

“ _Vkusno_ ,” Viktor murmurs reverently, and maybe it's that comment that makes Yuuri throw his shirt at Viktor's head, or maybe he planned to do that all along. Viktor takes the shirt off of his face so he can see, just managing to catch the way Yuuri pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

It occurs to Viktor that this is the first time, the very first time, that Yuuri still has his glasses on when they are this far along in their intimacy. This is the first time Yuuri can see his every reaction sharply; this is a show for Yuuri as much as it's a show for Viktor. 

And if it's a show, Viktor is going to perform. He brings the balled up shirt up to his nose, lets his eyes fall shut as he takes the deepest breath. Yuuri's smell fills his senses so much, he almost doesn't hear Yuuri gasp, “Oh.” 

Viktor lowers the shirt and places it aside on the bed, then opens his eyes and looks at Yuuri directly, lifting his eyebrows and smirking. For a second Yuuri looks dazed, and then surprisingly put-out, before he sighs again and catches Viktor's attention with his hand. He twists it in the air before resting it at the top of his sternum, then traces a lazy, twisting line down his body, between his subtly carved pectorals, past the swell of his stomach, over the waistband of the sweats that sit low on his hips because they're older, from before the weight loss– 

And then he unabashedly grabs his package, palm spread wide to accommodate both his cock and balls, and throws his head back with a husky moan. 

Viktor swears in Russian, the first word that comes to mind, as his cock twitches. He can see that Yuuri's got a semi, at least, and it reminds him how painfully untouched his own cock is. As if sensing that Viktor's got itchy fingers, Yuuri gives him a significant look, raising a single eyebrow. He rolls his hand over the crotch of his pants, then resettles it on his hip. 

“I don't repeat myself,” he warns. “And you'd better not come in that towel.” 

Viktor can't help the sob that bubbles up from his chest, and his eyes burn. His everything burns; cheeks, chest, ears, nose, but nothing so much as his dick, which has never been harder in his life. 

“Yuuri,” he begs, not knowing what he's begging for. Just Yuuri. “ _Yuuri_.”

He doesn't realize his eyes are closed until he hears and doesn't see Yuuri coming up to him, cupping the back of Viktor's head with the same hand that just fondled his junk. He places a knee aside Viktor's hip, close enough for the warmth to be felt, a hair away from touching. _Too far._

Using his thumb to stroke down Viktor's hair, he nudges his head up. Viktor looks at the face he adores in an arrangement he's never seen before, his very blood itself excitement running in his veins. 

“Are you enjoying the show, baby?” Yuuri asks kindly, but there's an edge to his voice that makes it clear that this is still part of their game. Because he's looking up, Viktor doesn't see it coming when Yuuri grinds his dick against Viktor's body, but he gets to see the delicious length of his neck as Yuuri tips his head back and moans. 

Viktor can't help the noises he makes in response, and he fists his hands in the sheets so that he doesn't reach out; to touch himself or Yuuri, he doesn't know. His noise makes Yuuri look down, but with the sweat on his face his glasses slip right off, landing on Viktor's lap. 

He picks them up automatically; they don't have any extras with them, so if damage comes to these, Yuuri will be near-blind until they actually get back to Japan. He holds them up, but hesitates, wondering what he should do. Yuuri tilts his head down a little more, nods briefly, and Viktor knows wordlessly to slide them back on the bridge of his nose, to be careful to tuck the arms behind his ears without stabbing him. 

As he settles the frames on Yuuri's face, his pinky brushes Yuuri's cheek; by accident or design, even Viktor doesn't know. 

“You touched me.” Yuuri points out calmly, his voice full of amusement. Viktor has a protest on his tongue, that he was set up for that, that Yuuri gave him permission – but all the words die on his tongue when he sees it.

That smile. 

The one in the photos. The same smile Yuuri has when he's finished a bowl of his mother's katsudon. His gold-medal smile. His uninhibited, open, in-this-moment-I-couldn't-be-happier smile. 

Viktor laughs, breathless and punch-drunk on the love filling every cell in his body. 

“I touched you,” he agrees. Then, in a conspiratorial, rapt whisper, he adds. “What happens next?” 

Yuuri pulls away, and Viktor misses his touch immediately. It's almost embarrassing, the whine that comes out of him, especially because Yuuri's hand is right back on him, untucking his towel and gently pulling it out from underneath him. 

“Thank you for sparing my ass from friction burn,” Viktor laughs, and Yuuri laughs too, tossing the towel behind him. 

“Would you like the honor of taking my pants off?” 

“Please,” Viktor breaths, and Yuuri nods again. Viktor slides his four fingers inside of the waistband of the pants on either side, cool against Yuuri's hot skin, and pushes down with his thumbs until he's got them halfway down Yuuri's ass. He smooths his hand over the plush skin in the back, and then reverently draws Yuri's erection and sac out, letting his touches linger. Yuuri's breathing is heavy against Viktor's shoulder. 

“You're enjoying this too much,” Yuuri complains, but when Viktor looks up he sees that smile, and sees how hard Yuuri is trying and failing to smother it. He returns it with a cheeky smile of his own. 

“This is mine to enjoy,” he purrs. “This body. This man. I have the ring to prove it.” 

Yuuri groans and buries his face in his hands, but even still, the corners of his mouth are visible, stretched to opposite ends of his face. Viktor kisses the skin under his mouth, over Yuuri's ribs, and then Yuuri both tilts his chin up and leans his own face down so they can kiss properly. While they're kissing, Viktor tugs hard on Yuuri's pants, and they fall to his ankles. Yuuri squirms _a lot_ as he tries to get them off without using his arms, too busy holding Viktor's face between his hands, and Viktor puts his hands on Yuuri's hips so he can enjoy their sway. 

When they are both finally, finally undressed, Yuuri presses Viktor onto his back and moves his mouth to kiss and lick Viktor's ears. He bites down too, harder than Viktor could ever expect from that sweet mouth, and Viktor's hips buck up of their own will. His erection is rubbed against Yuuri's thigh, and the touch is so good he sobs. 

“Let's do this like horny teenagers,” Yuuri whispers filthily in Viktor's ears. “Like we're in the closet at a party and we don't have time or lube.”

Viktor groans, and grabs a huge handful of Yuuri's ass, nails and fingers digging into the skin. “I've created a monster,” he answers, but it's not a no and Yuuri knows it too. They shift on the bed to line up better, cock against belly for both parties, and rut against each other desperately. Yuuri's hand slips between them, grabs Viktor's cock and jerks him, and Viktor feels the press of his wedding ring; along with Yuuri's touch, that detail has him throbbing. He moans and does the same, cupping the head of Yuuri's cock to thumb the slit, letting the rest of his fingers graze over the shaft, before he takes a firmer hold. 

It's only a minute more before Viktor comes first, spilling on Yuuri's hand and both of their stomachs, and Yuuri follows so quickly behind Viktor almost doesn't hear the whine of ecstacy in his ear. When they're spent, they use Yuuri's shirt to wipe themselves clean, then toss that aside, too. 

Yuuri lies on the bed like dead weight, as he does after he comes, and Viktor melts at the adorable sight but also has to fight to get the duvet out from under him. 

“Come on, Yuuri,” he huffs. “You'll freeze!” 

“But I'm so warm now,” he argues sleepily. “And I'll stay warm if you stay next to me.” 

Viktor groans, because it takes all his willpower not to cave and curl up with Yuuri. Imagining his fiancé waking him up in the middle of the night with a shiver and blue-tinted lips is helps to keep him on task. He gets Yuuri covered, and Yuuri sighs happily as burrows into the mattress. He makes an even more contented noise when he gets to burrow against Viktor's chest. 

“I know a strip tease isn't really the same as pole dancing,” he mumbles, sounding less sleepy and more uncertain. “If that even counts as a strip tease...” 

Viktor supposes now that the frustration and tension have been worked out of Yuuri's body, he's more clear-headed, and susceptible to doubting himself. He hushes him none too gently and threads his fingers in Yuuri's hair.

“Well, there was definitely stripping, and definitely also teasing, so I'd say it counts. Are you telling me you did all that, and you've never seen a strip tease before?”

Yuuri shrugs half-heartedly. “I'm not the biggest fan of clubbing, as you've probably guessed, and it's not like I had a reason to look it up online. If I wanted porn, I'd just watch porn.” 

“I love when your filter is gone,” Viktor sighs. “I want to know what kind of stuff you watch when you jerk off. Will you show me?” 

Yuuri looks up, meets Viktor's eyes, and smiles a bit wryly. “I've had your dick in my ass. I've had _my_ dick in _your_ ass. I've heard you beg my name. I'll probably never need porn again in my life.” 

Viktor feels himself blush, and Yuuri must see it too, because his smile gets softer and he brushes his fingers over Viktor's cheek. 

“Like I was saying before, I know it wasn't exactly what I promised, but you liked it... right?” 

Viktor shifts, presses their foreheads together. He's still running his fingers in Yuuri's hair; he loves how soft it feels. “Read my mind and tell me.” 

“Hmm... oh, so dirty!” Yuuri teases, laughing against Viktor's shoulder. “Your mind is a den of sin, Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Lucky for me, I found someone who meets me where I am.” Viktor teases a bit dryly, even though his heart pounds as he remembers Yuuri saying that to him. “I mean, the last thing I was expecting was some BSDM play, but it was a welcome surprise. Katsuki Yuuri, you really were made for me.” 

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri agrees wordlessly. He puts his elbow on Viktor's stomach and brushes his fingertips over his nipples idily. “That's why, as my husband, it's your job to make sure I never get that drunk ever again.” 

“Am I your husband now?” Viktor laughs, the word tasting incredible on his tongue. “No one informed me of the updated relationship status.”

“I don't remember anyone getting down on their knee and proposing, and yet somehow I found myself engaged. The universe works in mysterious ways.” 

“I could get down on both knees for you right now,” Viktor replies readily, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. Yuuri pinches his nipple, hard, and Viktor screams and laughs in a single breath. “Really, though, is that what you want...? A traditional proposal?” 

“That's not exactly traditional in Japan, you know. In the old days, people would propose pretty indirectly. Like, for example, a man might say something like, 'Please be my coach until I retire,' and his lover might reply, 'I hope you never retire.'”

Viktor's grin threatens to split his face in two. “I got it right on my first try, is what you're saying.” 

“Is what I'm saying,” Yuuri echoes with a little nod. “And in Russia...?” 

“We're blunt,” he hums. “Even when it comes to marriage.”

“Is _that_ why you announced it to everyone during dinner, then? I thought it was to give me an incentive to win.” 

“A little of both. But mostly I did that because I wanted to. I don't think we're a very traditional couple, Yuuri.” 

“No, we aren't,” Yuuri agrees. “But I am still a Japanese man, so I expect you to take responsibility for me.”

“Oh? And what does that entail?” 

“Don't ever let me drink too much alcohol, carry tissues in your pocket in case I need them, and Makkachin gets to sleep in our bed when it's cold.” 

Viktor pretends to consider this, but really, he's trying not to laugh. His Yuuri is so precious, he can't imagine how he got to be here. “Those are very difficult demands, but I vow to meet them. Anything else?” 

“Hmm...” Yuuri yawns, and then nuzzles closer to Viktor. “Tie my skates for me when I'm too old to do them myself... Sleep with me every night...” 

Viktor watches Yuuri's eyes fall shut, then open again. “Never let me be alone again,” he murmurs, looking vulnerable and small in Viktor's arms. He gasps softly, hugs Yuuri tight, and kisses his lips briefly.

“I will. I'll do all those things. Sleep easily, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri mumbles something in unintelligible Japanese, and it makes Viktor feel warm. He waits until he can tell Yuuri's asleep, that his breathing has evened out, his body gone a little heavier, and then he closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus (the next morning): 
> 
> "I suppose I'm not that surprised that you are so good at dominating, Yuuri," Viktor says with a grin as they make the bed. "But the towel thing kind of threw me for a loop. Was there a reason behind that?" 
> 
> Yuuri pauses with a pillow in his hand, and pulls a grimace. "My parents run a hotel, remember? You have no idea the things we've had to wash. Or burn. I didn't want to think of someone like my mom having to deal with our mess."
> 
> Viktor laughs into the back of his hand. "Did you really think about your mom while we were having sex, Yuuri?" 
> 
> In hindsight, he really should have expected the pillow that hit him in the head.
> 
> ([twitter](http://twitter.com/haikyuutiie) and [tumblr](http://zahhaked.tumblr.com))


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